Naval Battle Dragon Pirates

[Kaka]

Dragon Pirates​

The Dragon Pirates are an overwhelmingly powerful pirate crew that is next in line for becoming a Yonkou Pirate Crew. They sail around on a massive ship. Despite their great power, it seems like they are not evil. They are adventurous. But, their individual fighting strength is what makes them a great threat to the World Government.

NPCs:

Captain Ichiryu (Bounty: 1,450,000,000):

90 x 5 = 450
- STR: 78 (Race: +18, MA: +5) = 101
- SPE: 78 (Race: +18, MA: +5) = 101

- Movement: 101​

- Reaction: 101​

- VIT: 78 (Race: +18, MA: +5) = 101

- Stamina: 101​

- Durability: 101​

- Martial Arts: 73 (Race: +27) = 100

- Swordsmanship: 100​

- Hand-to-Hand Combat: 100​

- Haki: 100

- Busou-shoku no Haki: 100 (Item: + 20) = 120​

- Kenbun-shoku no Haki: 100​

First Mate Gildarts (Bounty: 900,000,000):

85 x 5 = 425
- STR: 79 (Race: +16, MA: +5, Item: +20) = 120
- SPE: 80 (Race: +16, MA: +5) = 101

- Movement: 101​

- Reaction: 101​

- VIT: 79 (Race: +16, MA: +5) = 100

- Stamina: 100 (Item: +20) = 120​

- Durability: 100​

- Martial Arts: 76 (Race: +24) = 100

- Hand-to-Hand Combat: 100​

- Life Return: 100​

- Haki: 100

- Busou-shoku no Haki: 100​

- Kebun-shoku no Haki: 100​

Musician Dracula (Bounty: 400,000,000):

75 x 5 = 375
- STR: 62 (Race: +14, MA: +5) = 81
- SPE: 62 (Race: +14, MA: +5) = 81

- Movement: 81​

- Reaction: 81​

- VIT: 62 (Race: +14, MA: +5) = 81

- Stamina: 81​

- Durability: 81​

- Martial Arts: 79 (Race: +21) = 100

- Swordsmanship: 100​

- Music Kata: 100​

- Haki: 100

- Busou-shoku no Haki: 100​

- Kenbun-shoku no Haki: 100 ​

Cook Charon (Bounty: 350,000,000):

75 x 5 = 375
- STR: 62 (Race: +14, MA: +5) = 81
- SPE: 62 (Race: +14, MA: +5) = 81

- Movement: 81​

- Reaction: 81​

- VIT: 62 (Race: +14, MA: +5) = 81

- Stamina: 81​

- Durability: 81​

- Martial Arts: 79 (Race: +21) = 100

- Hand-to-Hand Combat: 100​

- Cooking Kata: 100​

- Haki: 100

- Busou-shoku no Haki: 100​

- Kenbun-shoku no Haki: 100​

Helmsman Orca (Bounty: 300,000,000):

75 x 5 = 375
- STR: 62 (Race: +14, MA: +5) = 81
- SPE: 62 (Race: +14, MA: +5) = 81

- Movement: 81​

- Reaction: 81​

- VIT: 62 (Race: +14, MA: +5) = 81

- Stamina: 81​

- Durability: 81​

- Martial Arts: 79 (Race: +21) = 100

- Fishman Karate: 100​

- Fishman Jujitsu: 100​

- Haki: 100

- Busou-shoku no Haki: 100​

- Kenbun-shoku no Haki: 100​

Dogmatika (Bounty: 250,000,000):

75 x 5 = 375
- STR: 62 (Race: +14, MA: +5) = 81
- SPE: 62 (Race: +14, MA: +5) = 81

- Movement: 81​

- Reaction: 81​

- VIT: 62 (Race: +14, MA: +5) = 81

- Stamina: 81​

- Durability: 81​

- Cyborg: 79 (Race: +21) = 100

- Destruction: 100​

- Armoring: 100 (Item: +20) = 120​

- Energy: 100​

- Utility: 100​

- Haki: 100

- Busou-shoku no Haki: 100​

- Kenbun-shoku no Haki: 100​

Crew members (500):

25 x 5 = 125
- STR: 33 (Race: +4) =37
- SPE: 33 (Race: +4) =37

- Movement: 37​

- Reaction: 37​

- VIT: 29 (Race: +4)

- Stamina: 33​

- Durability: 33​

- Martial Arts: 30 (Race: +6) = 36

- Swordsmanship: 36​

- Marksmanship: 36​

 

[Kaka]

One-time Beri reward: 900 million Beri

 

[Gambit]

The sea roared like a beast possessed, crashing against the jagged rocks of an uncharted island where black clouds loomed heavy overhead. Thunder rumbled in the distance, but it was the silence that cut deepest. No drums. No war cries. Just the wind howling as if the world itself sensed what had come ashore.

A faint distortion shimmered near the treeline—then, a single figure stepped through the mist. No flashy entrance, no unnecessary flair. Just precision. Intent.

Hagiri Kaname had arrived.

His coat fluttered like a specter’s banner behind him, the crimson hue stained faintly from missions past. Eyes sharp, gaze forward. No need for words. The crunch of his boots over gravel echoed like a death knell to those who dared to stand in his path. Somewhere on this island, the Dragon Pirates stirred—new leadership, new hunger, same defiance.

And Hagiri? He didn’t come to negotiate. He came to measure monsters.

The game had changed. And the Sniper was already counting bodies.

 

[Aro]

The Dragon Pirates: Monsters Don't Flinch #1
@Gambit

The fog clung low to the earth, coiling between broken trees and shattered stone like a serpent hunting silence. Ashen soil still smoldered where fire had touched it—remnants of a recent clash, or perhaps just the wake of giants making landfall.

They had already come ashore.

Scattered across the island’s blackened ridges and moss-choked ruins were footprints too deep for ordinary men. Trees split at the trunk. Boulder formations sundered clean. These were not signs of a siege. This was a claim.

The Dragon Pirates were already here.

Beneath a toppled statue of a forgotten deity, Gildarts crouched, dragging a finger through the dirt where blood had dried. His golden gauntlet clenched as he stood, staring through the veil of mist toward the disturbance in the treeline.

“He’s here,” he said.

Perched high on a stone obelisk, Dracula sheathed his blade with a soft click. He spoke like a man reading a poem to the dead. “One man walking into a graveyard, thinking himself the undertaker.”

A low metallic hum signaled Dogmatika’s presence. He stepped from the ruin’s shadow, servos purring beneath his trench-like armor. “Thermal silhouette. Single hostile. Suppressing pulse rate. Calculating fire vector.” A brief pause. “...It’s him.”

Further downslope, in the ruins of an old naval outpost, Charon had already prepared a firepit. He stirred a stew with his cleaver, licking rain from his tusk as his nostrils flared.
“Tell the sniper to come hungry,” he growled. “I’ve got more than bones in this broth.”

And in the tidepools where salt met shadow, Orca rose from the shallows, water streaming down the ridges of his inhuman frame. No words. Just the slow exhale of breath held too long.

Then came the crunch of boots. Not theirs.

They all felt it—the disturbance. Like the click of a rifle chamber behind your ear.

Gildarts turned toward the mist.
“You came to measure monsters, didn’t you?”

The mist parted just slightly. Enough for all of them to feel him. Not see—feel.

He wasn’t the first to step onto their turf thinking he could rewrite legend. But the Dragon Pirates didn’t fear legends.

They wrote them.

And in the stillness before the storm returned, Gildarts cracked his neck and grinned like a man who’d just heard the bell ring.

“Alright then, Sniper. Let’s see if your aim’s better than your judgment.”​

 

[Gambit]

The air thickened like a drawn breath, then froze.

No reply echoed back through the mist. No snark. No threat. Just a glint—barely a shimmer—somewhere between the fractured stone and the sway of broken pine.

Then click—the soft, mechanical reset of a high-precision rifle. Somewhere high, above the line of sight. Not yet a challenge. A declaration.

“You’ve felt my presence. That’s enough.”

Kaname stood still beneath the ragged edge of a jagged cliff, a figure barely outlined by the ambient light bleeding through the fog. One eye narrowed, finger loose against the trigger guard, his gaze dissecting the terrain like a surgeon’s blade. He didn’t blink.

His monologue came not in words—but in silence measured by intent.

They think I walked into a graveyard...
Let them.
I don’t bury legends. I erase them.

A breeze cut through the air, brushing past the old statues, rusted armor, and shattered remnants of gods long dead. In that breath, Dogmatika’s HUD momentarily scrambled. Orca’s senses twitched. Dracula’s instinct kicked like a second heartbeat.

They were being watched.

And yet, no eyes were seen. No breath heard. Just the weight of precision—of inevitability.

From his vantage, Kaname studied the ruins like a map of potential endings. Footprints. Blood. Fire. Good. It meant they bled.

Gildarts' voice echoed up the ridge—defiant, amused. “Alright then, Sniper. Let’s see if your aim’s better than your judgment.”

A single casing dropped somewhere behind the wind. It hadn’t been fired. It didn’t need to be. Not yet. “You’ll know when I miss. The world won’t exist anymore.”

Then he vanished—blending with the storm.

The hunt had begun.

 

[Aro]

Dragon Pirates #2
@Gambit

The casing hadn’t dropped far—just enough to leave a sound in its wake. A whisper of metal against stone. Yet it echoed like a prophecy.

And still, no shot came.

Not a bullet. Not a move. Just the weight of a hunter pressing down on a field of giants. Back at the outpost, Charon stirred the stew once, twice, then set the ladle down. He stood, the fire’s glow dancing against the heavy cooking cleaver strapped across his back like a butcher’s greatsword.

“No shot?” he grunted. “He’s smarter than he looks.”

Orca crouched along the water’s edge, hands half-submerged in the shallows. The ocean around his forearms boiled—not from heat, but tension. He didn’t speak, but his eyes scanned the treeline. He wasn’t looking for Kaname.

He was listening for the change in the water.

Dogmatika twitched. A low hum pulsed behind his visor as new readings scrolled across his HUD. “He’s adjusting his position. Small shift. Wind alignment. Line of sight recalibrated. He’s not waiting to strike—he’s recording.” From his perch, Dracula exhaled like a man letting go of the past.

“A scholar of violence,” he said. “Or a painter who uses blood instead of oil.”

Below him, Gildarts ran a hand through his soaked hair. “I’ve heard of him. Never seen the real deal until now.” He squinted toward the high ridge where the casing fell. “Doesn’t need to shoot. Just wants us to know he could.”

“He picked the wrong legends,” Charon growled, cracking his knuckles. “I’m not some tale to be read out loud. I’m a damn warning label.”

But Dogmatika raised a hand. “No sudden moves. He’s watching for overreaction. He doesn’t want chaos. He wants predictable response.”

“You’re saying we don’t play?” Gildarts asked.

“I’m saying... we breathe. Make him think we’re colder than he is.”

Dracula clicked his sword back out of its sheath slightly, then in again. “Let him haunt the trees. When the storm hits, he’ll learn something important.”

Orca finally rose from the surf. His voice rolled out like a low wave: “You can watch the ocean for a thousand years… but that won’t stop the tide.”

They didn’t scatter. They didn’t retreat. And they sure as hell didn’t act like prey. Each Dragon Pirate moved—just enough. Not retreating, but repositioning. Angles, shadows, high ground. Gildarts climbed higher into the ruins. Dogmatika activated passive counter-measures. Charon hauled the stew cauldron closer to the center of camp like it was bait. Orca vanished into the mangroves. Dracula simply smiled.

Let the sniper measure. Because the Dragon Pirates had measured him too. And when the first true move was made, they wouldn’t be running.

They’d be waiting.​

 

[Gambit]

A breeze swept through the treetops—gentle, natural—except it wasn’t.

It was the slipstream of movement.

Not fast. Not loud. But deliberate. The kind of shift that only people like them could notice. Gildarts paused mid-step. Orca’s breath hitched. Dogmatika’s HUD jittered for 0.6 seconds before recalibrating. Dracula blinked once—calculating, not startled.

And from somewhere far above, nestled in the folds of mist and foliage, a voice moved through the wind, low and razor-clean. Not spoken aloud, not even amplified—but heard all the same.

“You don't make legends by surviving.
You make them by deciding who doesn't.”

Kaname didn't aim.

He traced.

He watched vectors form between their slight adjustments. Measured every breath Dracula inhaled, the weight Charon shifted on one foot, the moment Gildarts blinked before climbing, the slight splash as Orca disappeared into brine.

They repositioned.
Good.
Let them dance.
I already wrote the rhythm.

One gloved hand flicked a panel on his custom scope—mildot reticle sharpening like a scalpel under moonlight. A new icon blinked on. Multi-Vector Prediction Pathing Enabled. The rifle never moved.

Below, Charon's stew hissed. That meant heat. Heat meant vapor. Vapor meant visibility.

Kaname marked it. Logged it. Left it.

You call it bait. I call it a marker.
Thanks for the lighting, chef.

He moved again—sideways through the high canopy like a ghost who understood elevation was language. Never where they expected. Not once where he had been.

And yet the pressure remained. On all of them.

A presence like the pause before a gunshot—held indefinitely.

Then, just as suddenly…

Nothing.

No pressure. No sound. Not even the trees shifted.

He was gone.

Until a single feather-light ping echoed behind Dogmatika—a shell casing, curved and flattened, dropped neatly onto the cracked stone behind his left heel. It hadn’t come from a shot.

It had come from his blind spot.

Etched into its side, in precise, scorched lines:

“I see you.”

 

[Aro]

Dragon Pirates #3
@Gambit

Dogmatika didn’t flinch. Atleast not visibly. But deep within his reinforced frame, diagnostic subroutines screamed. For 0.3 seconds, his systems were at war with themselves—combat reflexes urging movement, protocol demanding composure.

He stared at the casing.

It wasn’t warm. It wasn’t fresh. That made it worse.

Gildarts descended from his perch with a new tension in his shoulders. Not fear. Calculation. “He was behind you,” he said, voice low, almost amused. “How the hell did a rifleman get behind you?”

Dogmatika scanned the ridgeline again, slower this time. “He didn’t move through blind spots. He created them. Using our own movements. Our assumptions.”

Charon was already on the move, stew forgotten. “I'm tired of this. You can’t cook with a phantom watching your fire.”

“Then don’t cook,” came Dracula’s dry reply, as he watched the treetops from beneath the hood of his tattered cloak. “You’ll only feed the myth.”

Gildarts picked up the casing with two fingers, turning it in the mistlight. The words “I see you” weren’t taunt or challenge. They were declaration.

“He’s mapping us,” he muttered. “No bullets. No blood. Just... understanding. That’s what this is. A dissection.”

Orca emerged from the surf again, quiet and dripping, his inhuman eyes narrowed toward the canopy where the breeze had last broken. “He’s not measuring for weakness,” he said in a guttural whisper. “He’s measuring discipline.”

Dracula’s lips curved at that.

“Which means he hasn’t decided yet if we’re beasts to slay—or comrades worth letting live.”

That hung in the air like a suspended blade.

Dogmatika finally spoke again, voice flat, mechanical, but tighter than before. “Tactical consensus: he doesn’t intend to engage until we misstep.”

“Then we won’t,” Gildarts replied simply. He turned, tossing the shell back onto the stone like a coin returned to the ferryman. “Let him watch.”

Charon growled low. “And what if he gets bored?”

Dracula’s smile darkened. “Then he shoots. And we find out how well legends bleed.”

Gildarts looked toward the eastern cliffs, toward the spot he thought Kaname might’ve perched earlier—no proof, no trail. Just instinct.

“Make no mistake,” he said, his voice lowering into command. “This isn’t over. This is the part before it starts. The sniper’s not here for blood.” He glanced back toward the rest. “He’s here for truth.”

The Dragon Pirates didn’t break formation. They didn’t chase shadows. They simply adjusted—like wolves circling firelight, knowing the hunter sat just beyond the glow. And somewhere above, in silence deeper than fog, Hagiri Kaname moved again—unseen, unfelt.

Still watching. Still choosing.​